regret as a carousel
by Fribbled
Summary: Film canon. Bruce has changed eight times over five years, and each transformation is burned on his bones. When he's alone at night with nothing but his own thoughts, the embers flare just a bit brighter as he relives each and every one.


**[** The first time was definitely the worst, in Bruce's opinion. Not even counting the fact it was the start of the running, what made him give up his entire life, the most important thing _in_ his life. It adds into it, but it's not the main reason.

He still remembers everything leading up to it in perfect detail (and then he remembers it was only five years ago, but dear god, it seems so much longer). **]**

Betty woke him up with slow, sweet kisses and hot, bitterly strong coffee. They'd had breakfast in bed (Betty always scolded him for getting food everywhere, even though her side of the bed had more toast crumbs at the end of the day) and she tried to teasingly talk him out of it. But he just smirked at her because he was oh, so sure, and were they two of the smartest people in the field or weren't they, but underneath the teasing playfulness was a darker worry. Each knew the other was remembering the argument they'd had when Bruce first decided to do this. It wasn't really a fight because Bruce _refused_ to raise his voice to her and Betty was too busy pleading with him to really shout. But they didn't talk about it that morning, between light touches and soft words. He knew she was only worried about him, and he knew they'd be fine again after today once he showed her it was all going to work out.

**[** and how he shakes his head now because Jesus Christ, he should have choked on his hubris right then and there **]**

From the apartment to the campus lab wasn't that far, so they walked. The weather was mild, spring, just after that first string of rainstorms that finally wash away the last of winter. The General was waiting for them at the door to their building, and Bruce gave Betty's hand a squeeze. She seemed to have an all right relationship with her father, but his own experience made him color things with his own insecurities and fears. A peck on tiptoe to the General's cheek and a somewhat firm handshake from Bruce and up they went.

A quick rundown with the techs and interns and the people from the university here because they want to seem to the General as if they're important and integral to the project. Betty played interference, talking it up with the bigwigs - Bruce just had never been good at talking, and besides, he had more important things to focus on now. When they were satisfied and back behind the glass, Betty stayed to strap him in. She tried, one last time, to make him reconsider, saying there was still time... He gave her hand a squeeze, warm and reassuring, because at the end of the day they were both going to laugh about it.

**[ **Bruce wishes he could stop the tape there, pretend that he'd come to his senses, that he'd scrapped all the math and crunched the numbers again and get an actual damn guinea pig instead of himself. But it always rolls on, and Bruce hates himself for not being able to stop it – though whether he means the memory or the decision is anyone's guess. **]**

The hum and whir of the machinery. A wink at Betty, still worried, still doubtful. Then the flash of green so bright his eyes were _boiling_ in their sockets and every nerve in his body was writhingthrashing_screaming_ in pain. Or it might have been Bruce himself screaming - he didn't remember that part as well as the rest. Only later, from the broken shattered pieces, all tinged with green and an indomitable rage.

The lab - demolished. The interns and the techs and the deans - silent, unmoving beneath so much rubble. The General - fear in his eyes as he tried to crawl away, his broken arm piercing through cloth and skin. And Betty - laying like a discarded doll but no toy bled like that and god it was everywhere—

**[ **Bruce has to stop there, every single time, drawing in ragged breaths as guilt and pain (constant companions since that day, but they've always been with him, really) crash into him again. He takes a breath or two, rides it out, because once he starts on this road, he has to go all the way down it - self-flagellation and memories, now there's a Hallmark moment. **]**

He woke up on the ground in some secluded woods a couple miles away from the college, his pants absolutely shredded and barely hanging on, the rest of his clothes just gone. He managed to get back to the apartment, thanks to a couple of very confused hikers, who probably thought he'd been on the wrong end of a hazing. He grabbed the first clothes he laid hands on, ran to the lab, and nearly threw up at the sight of everything shattered and broken - even with the worst breaks covered in white sheets as they were carried out one by one. Grabbing a paramedic who was able to decipher the panicked babbling, Bruce found out where Betty was, but couldn't believe it until he saw it himself. Betty - _his_ Betty - wrapped in gauze and plaster of Paris, with dark stitches and pale IV tubes peeking out from under the standard-issue hospital gown.

All his fault.

He hadn't even finished sinking into the chair beside her bed before he was being yanked up by his collar and shaken like a rag. The General was right up in his face, but Bruce could hardly hear what he was saying (_you're not going to get away with cheating me out of my end, Banner, by hell you're not_) over the cuts and bruises on the other man's face. Once he did, his stomach dropped, and he was thankful there was nothing in it, otherwise he was pretty sure he'd have thrown up on the General's shoes at the thought of what Ross was suggesting. To use this thing, to try and control it, to bottle it up and build an army it...

_No_.

The General had stared at him, mouth still open mid-word, and it was more than clear that he'd never expected Bruce Banner - mild-mannered, lily-livered, milk-fed, spineless Bruce Banner - to have the steely voice he'd just heard. Bruce had surprised himself with how determined and steady he'd been, telling the General off that he'd never allow this monster out again, not for the General, not for the Army, not for anything or anyone. It didn't take long for the General to snap out of his shock, scowling and promising Banner a world of hurt before turning on his heel and stalking off to make a phone call.

Bruce just stood there, shaking - partly at having lectured a five-star general, partly at what he would later realize was his body's reaction to the new strain it found itself under, partly at what he knew he had to do, and partly at how afraid he was of doing it. It felt like he stayed rooted to the ground forever, staring off at the wall, but it was only a few minutes. Then he came back to himself and allowed for one last, long look at Betty and he wished telepathy was possible, just so she'd know just how much he loved her, and how completely and totally sorry he was. Sorry for not listening, sorry for what he'd caused, sorry for what he'd done, and most of all sorry for what he was about to do.

His throat was tight when he burst through the hospital's double doors at a run, and never looked back.


End file.
